The truth flashed across him before the words were out. Arabella nodded her head, and her brother bowed his in trouble.
“Yes, that's bad,” said he, as though nothing else had been. “There's no denying it, that is bad.” It was a thing he could realise; that was why he took it thus disproportionately to heart.
“Surely it is all bad together!” said Arabella. John William spent some minutes in a study of the bare boards by his bedside.
“Where do you think she went to?” he said at last, looking up.
“I have no idea.”
“Have you told me all that she said? She didn't—she didn't send any other messages?” It was wistfully asked.
“No, none; but she did tell me how she hopes and prays that you will never give her another thought. She declares she has never given a single thought to you. It is true, too, I am sure.”
“We shall see—we shall see. So you have no idea where she went? She gave you no hint of any sort or kind?”
“None whatever.”
“She has gone back to Melbourne, think you?”